Mirror Shards
by Mayhem Managed
Summary: A oneshot featuring the Star Trek Mirror Universe versions of The ATeam and The Dresden Files, with more to come.
1. Battle Scars

The afternoon sun beat down on the Californian highway as the convoy advanced towards Los Angeles. The two jeeps and the Ford Crown Sherman all bore the insignia of the Imperial American Military Police, a subtle encouragement for the civilian motorists to pull over and let them pass. If a more overt persuasion was needed, the two jeeps' mounted M-75s would be employed.

Inside the Crown Sherman sat the newly promoted Colonel Crane, wondering what he had done to deserve this assignment. Until recently, he had been Major Crane, a staff member attached to General Roderick Decker, as he had been since the general had gained his stars during the conquest of Vietnam. Now, in the space of a week, he had been promoted to Colonel and given the assignment of capturing the hit-squad-for-hire known as the A-Team.

Crane wondered just who it was in the upper echelons he had irritated to be given this assignment. Ever since the A-Team had been charged with treason back in '72, it seemed like every Imperial Army officer that had been involved with them had ended up dead. Lynch, the commander of Fort Bragg, where the rouge assault team had been imprisoned, had been, ironically, hung for dereliction of duty shortly after they escaped. Colonel Briggs had spent nearly five years hunting the A-Team, only to disappear while following a lead. Three days later, he had reappeared – without his eyeballs or tongue. The IBI had investigated, and Briggs had vanished permanently.

The Army had even attempted to infiltrate the team, using a captured Puerto Rican terrorist named Frankie Santana. The explosives expert had been promised a pardon if he successfully infiltrated the A-Team and delivered them to the Army. The project had been declared a failure after a safe delivered to an army base outside of San Diego had been discovered to contain Santana's remains. IBI forensics experts had determined that the late mole had been sealed into the safe with a live hand grenade.

Crane was jolted from his thoughts when a beeping noise issued from the dashboard of the car. "Sir!" shouted the noncom at the wheel. "Point car reporting enemy fire incoming!" The remark was punctuated by the front jeep abruptly flying into the air, only to crash back to earth and roll several yards. The Crown Sherman slid to a stop as the rearguard jeep fired its M-75 at a nearby hill. A flash near the summit caught Crane's attention as he fumbled with the door latch. _Oh, sh- _was the last thought that went through his mind before the RPG turned the car into an inferno.

* * *

"I love it when a plan comes together." High up on the crest of the hill, a solitary figure slung the grenade launcher over his shoulder, stuck a cigar in his mouth, and turned from the destruction on the road below. John "Hannibal" Smith, leader of the A-Team, quickly made his way down the hill, to where his squad of mercenaries was waiting, protected from the M-75s by the curve of the hill. As Hannibal approached the team's signature black and gray van, the side door slid open and two and a half pairs of eyes shot irritated glares at the former solider. 

"Really, Hannibal, did you have to run off and do that by yourself? You know, just one slip-up and you're dog food." The speaker paused to take a drag from his cigarette. "Or, worse, in the tender care of the Imperial Department of Correction." Hannibal just winked at his lieutenant. Templeton "Patchman" Peck responded by rolling his single eye. He had joined the Army under an assumed name in an attempt to escape the stigma of his late father's execution for treason, but his major reward for the effort was losing one eye to a Viet Cong POW camp. Still, he claimed that the eye-patch gave him a roguish air that attracted the ladies.

"He ain't listenin', Patch – he's on the jazz again, and when Hannibal's on the jazz, he's crazy – crazier than Murdock." This contentious statement came from the driver's seat of the van, where sat B. A. "Bad Attitude" Baracus. The muscley black ex-solider had grown up on the mean streets of Chicago, and when in a sticky situation over a GBH charge, he had chosen enlistment in the Imperial Army over imprisonment. Outside observers were astounded that the oft-irate scout had survived as long as he had, given his penchant for punching out anyone that annoyed him – even superior officers. If not for his veritable mechanical genius, he would have been killed for his insubordination long ago.

"Thanks, B.A. It's always good to know how your friends really feel about you." H. M. "Howling Mad" Murdock punctuated his remark by ripping his ever-present baseball cap off his head and wringing it in his hands. Hannibal idly noted the message on his T-shirt for the day: _On the road of life, I follow the psychopath_. "It lets you know who to avoid when the black helicopters come for you." He glanced nervously out the window, as if expecting the phantom aircraft to appear at any moment.

"Calm down, Murdock, before you have one of your episodes. B.A., do you have to wind him up like that?" Around the same time as the rest of the team was being set up for the Hanoi bank massacre, Murdock had been compelled by the Imperial Air Force to undergo a "psychiatric evaluation". He had gone into the experience a little on the odd side, but had come out a full-blown neurotic. On their cross-country trip from Fort Bragg to L. A. the A-Team had made a side journey to liberate Murdock from the lab he was being held at. Getting him out had been a tricky proposition that ended up involving an impersonation of a general on Patch's part, and the liberal use of hand grenades on B.A.'s. Murdock had never quite recovered from his "evaluation", and when the Team had encountered Dr. Pepper a couple of years later, they had made sure he died in the crossfire.

Murdock's psychological breakdown thus averted, Hannibal handed Patch the RPG launcher and climbed into the front passenger seat of the van. B.A. started the engine, and Hannibal took a puff from his cigar.

"So, Patch, what have you got for us?"

"Well, I've been contacted by an organization in Tarzana called the Hole-in-the-Wall Taxi Company, and it seems that they need someone to, shall we say, put down some competitors?"

"Sounds perfect. What do you say, guys?"

Three voices gave their approval, and the members of the A-Team were on their way to their next mission.

* * *

**Authors Notes:**

I don't own the Mirror Universe, The A-Team, or any characters thereof.

Confused yet? Let me explain. The _Star Trek: The Original Series _episode "Mirror, Mirror" established the existence of the "Mirror Universe", which is much like ours, except that almost everyone is considerably more brutal and unprincipled than in our universe (Hence, the American Empire instead of the United States, to take the most obvious example). Working from the presupposition that all or most fictions reside in the same universe, it therefore follows that there must be Mirror Universe – or MU – versions of almost every fiction ever contrived. This is intended to be the first in a series of one-shots depicting some of these more contemporary inhabitants of the Mirror Universe, so if you have a certain movie, book, or show you'd like to see me do, why not tell me in a review?

In the meanwhile, the next chapter will involve the MU version of a certain wizard named Harry. No, not _that_ one, the American one.


	2. Knightfall

It was a dark and stormy night. The rain fell in sheets from the midnight sky as the wind howled, the lightning crackled and the thunder roared. It was a wild night, a night that nobody in his right mind would be out in, which probably proved that I wasn't in my right mind.

It was also a night that somebody would die. With luck it wouldn't be me.

In my own defense, it wasn't as if I had planned on getting into a toe-to-toe with Michael Carpenter, Chicago's very own Knight of the Cross. In fact, I would have been perfectly happy never crossing paths with the man. No, it was Carpenter who insisted on getting all righteously indignant on me, going on about _the power of the devil_ and _leading my daughter astray_ and trying to smite me in my own office. It was only afterwards, when Karrin had the man safely (if temporarily) behind bars, that I discovered the reason for Carpenter's fury. Apparently, my new apprentice, Molly, was his daughter, and the man clearly had a serious, practically Salem-esque issue with magic.

Later, Karrin had called to tell me of Carpenter's mysterious – one might even say miraculous – escape, and I immediately knew I had to do something. Molly had exhibited too much potential to let sit untrained, but based on her father's reactions so far I figured that he would be disinclined to acquiesce to my trying to educate her. Hell's bells, I could probably learn a thing or two from her about mind magics and veils. So, I instructed Karrin to 'arrest' Molly at the Carpenters' house, and take her to my apartment, where I would meet the two of them.

"No problem, Harry," she said with a chuckle. "It'll be believable, too – according to the files your new padawan has been downtown twice already."

"Yeah? What for?"

"The first time was for unaccompanied drinking; the second was possession of narcotics with intent to distribute without proper permits. I'm liking this girl more and more all the time."

"Y'know, Murph, with an attitude like that I'm surprised you're still on the force."

"Without Lasciel, I might not be." Which was true. Since she had come into the possession of one of the Blackened Denarii a few years back, Karrin's fortunes in the Chicago IPD had risen substantially.

"Well, tell her thanks for me, and I'll see you in a few minutes."

"See you, Harry."

Hanging up the phone, I left my office and made my way to the Black Beetle. While Karrin liked to joke that there were no original parts left on it, I really had to hand it to my mechanic, Mike, who always managed to make it look like new after whatever monster had ravaged it this week. The mold demons were the worst – they even ate the convertible top.

Of course, with the way the weather was, the Beetle's top stayed in the upright and locked position. I had just turned off Lake Street when the car suddenly lurched forward with a loud screeching sound. I whipped around just in time to see the large white pickup truck smash again into the Beetle's rear.

Guess who.

Normally, I would have been able to maneuver the Beetle away from Carpenter, even if he had hit me, but tonight the rain complicated my escape. The Beetle spun on the slick pavement, flipped onto its side, and crashed to a stop on the opposite sidewalk, jammed up against the storefronts.

As I sat there, the thought crossed my mind that, maybe, Carpenter would be satisfied with trashing my car (with me in it) and go away. Unfortunately, from what I knew of the man I wouldn't list "lack of resolve" amongst his vices. As I tried to unbuckle my seatbelt, I caught a glimpse of a pair of steel-toed boots approaching the windshield. Crap.

"Wizard! Your time of judgment has come!" I frantically rocked the Beetle, hoping to roll it back right-side-up. Maybe I could trap Carpenter underneath it. Just a little farther . . . _yes!_

With a mighty crash, the Beetle settled back onto its tires. I lost no time scrambling out, blasting rod in hand. The Knight was nowhere to be seen. As I bent over to see if, maybe, he was underneath my car, a sword swung out of nowhere – right through where my head had been. The Beetle's side mirror skittered across the sidewalk. Where the downbelow had that come from?

As Carpenter attempted to wrench his sword out of the Beetle's door panel, I headed up the street. Not too many people were outside in this weather, but I wanted no witnesses for what was about to happen. I turned into an alley, being sure to slow up a bit – partly so that Carpenter could see me, and partly because I had been thoroughly battered by the Black Beetle's earlier escapade.

Carpenter took the bait. Sword held high, he charged after me, no doubt intent on using it to express his righteous indignation at my profession. When I was a good distance down the alley, I spun on my heel and faced the Knight. His face displayed a curious mixture of disgust and triumph.

"Your time has come, wizard." He sneered. "And may God have mercy on your soul, for I shall have none." He swung the sword at me, and I barely got out of the way in time. He did manage to clip my blasting rod, which spun out of my hand and rolled under a dumpster.

"I see someone had a nice, big bowl of Fanatic-O's this morning." I retorted, leading Carpenter farther down the alley. Suddenly, I backed right over a box in the middle of the alley and fell flat on my back. Carpenter seized his opportunity and brought the sword down in a stabbing motion, while I threw up my left hand, channeling energy through my shield bracelet.

The sword rebounded off my shield, causing Carpenter to stumble backwards. At this point, I didn't think I'd be able to block another thrust, so I went with the best of my rapidly diminishing options.

I pulled out my .45 and shot the knight three times in the chest.

Carpenter's sword clattered to the ground as the knight sank to his knees, a shocked expression displayed on his face. Then, he slowly reached up to his chest and pulled aside the ridiculous red cloak he had sported during every time I had encountered him. Underneath it, however, he wore a chain mail shirt instead of the flannel he normally wore. Two of my shots had hit the upper torso and had failed to penetrate, but the third had apparently gone a little high – straight through Carpenter's neck. His fingertips brushed the blood streaming from the wound, and Carpenter toppled over with a gurgle. My fourth shot put him out of his misery.

Bruised and achy from the night's excitement, I quickly gathered up my blasting rod and the late knight's sword. Both of which I wrapped up in my coat, since from the sound of things out on the street, the authorities had already shown up, and most of _them_ tended to frown upon anything not easily categorized by the IPD bureaucracy.

I needn't have worried. The responding officer, standing with her back to me interrogating an apparent witness, turned out to be none other than Karrin Murphy. Sensing my approach, she spun around, leaving the relived witness to discreetly vanish.

"Harry!" She rushed forward, slowing as she noticed my state of disarray. "Are you OK? What happened?"

"Carpenter happened. I'm fine, though – just a little banged up."

"What happened to Carpenter?"

I gestured back towards the alley. "Lead poisoning."

She grimaced. "Say no more." She pulled me over to her squad car, within which I saw a familiar looking pink and green head. I opened up the door and smiled at my apprentice.

"Hey, Molly." She immediately looked up, looking rather relieved.

"Harry, thank the erlking, I swear I didn't do anything, this crazy cop chick just barged into the house and grabbed me, and – "

I couldn't help it. Despite my bruises, I was doubled over laughing. Molly glared at me. "It's not funny, Harry!"

"I – I – I'm sorry, kid." I managed to get out. Calming down a bit, I continued. "The 'crazy cop chick' is a friend of mine, her name's Karrin Murphy. You're not really arrested; I just had her pick you up so there would be no problems with your dad." I looked over the squad car's roof, and saw two EMTs loading a draped stretcher into an ambulance, with Karrin looking on. "I don't think there will be, anymore. Can you hold onto this for me?" I thrust my bundled up coat at her.

"Sure." As she pulled the coat onto her lap, the sword slipped out. Molly started. She ran her hand along the blade. " . . . Dad?" She looked up at me, eyes filling with tears. "Did . . . did you . . . "

I slowly nodded. "I had to, kiddo – it was either him or me." Molly covered her face with her hands. I could hear her sobbing behind them. "For what it's worth, he didn't suffer long. I'm sorry."

Just then, Karrin came back. Molly seemed to have calmed down slightly, so I asked her if she would like to go back home. She nodded despondently. I relayed the request to Karrin, and we were off.

After Karrin returned Molly to her house – giving her mother a cover story about a false accusation – she headed for the Victorian boarding house I live in. I bought it shortly after a job involving a country singer who thought his house was haunted. Some people will pay outrageous amounts for incense and mood lighting.

"So, my report clearly states that Carpenter was the aggressor – I don't think you'll get in any trouble over this." Karrin's voice jarred me from my thoughts. "I also called Mike to take care of the Beetle."

"Thanks, Karrin – you staying tonight?"

She smirked at me. "I just might. My shift is over at eight – I'll be back by eight-thirty." She pulled up in front of my house. I got out of the squad car and opened the back door to grab my coat.

"By the way, Murph – I picked up a little souvenir after Carpenter's . . . passing." I slid the sword out and laid it on the backseat. "I'm sure you know where it needs to go." She grinned at me, then shifted the car and drove off. I headed to the house.

An hour or so later, I heard Karrin come through my door. I hustled out of my lab to greet her. "Hello, Karrin. You look lovely tonight."

"Thanks, Harry." She smiled flirtatiously, then frowned at the sight of the open trapdoor. "You didn't let that weird assistant of yours into your head, did, you?"

I hurriedly shut the trapdoor. "Nope. It's just the two of us tonight."

"Good."

* * *

I don't own Harry Dresden or anything related to his universe. I also don't own the Star Trek Mirror Universe.

**Author's Notes:**

And, two months later . . . the Mirror Universe Harry Dresden. I tried to make him more of a ethically questionable figure than he already is, but I don't know how well I succeeded. Michael, on the other hand, is pretty nasty. Please keep in mind that this is supposed to be a darker universe, and so I ascribed traits to the characters not necessarily reflective of their roles in the books. I'd really like to hear what you think of them, as well as the story in general. Also, don't forget to let me know if you have any ideas for further Mirror Shards.

Thanks for reading!


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